


A Fearsome Totality

by thermodynamicActivity (chlorinetrifluoride)



Series: The Collegestuck 'Verse [39]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, F/F, F/M, Families of Choice, Homophobia, Humanstuck, Light Angst, Other, Past Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-11 22:23:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10475745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chlorinetrifluoride/pseuds/thermodynamicActivity
Summary: It's June of 2011. Your name is Porrim Maryam, and you are a pediatric nurse. A bill to legalize same-sex marriage in New York got passed while you were at work on Friday night. Your sister wants you to come home to Brooklyn on Saturday, because she has something important to tell you. The Pride March is on Sunday, and it’s sure to be interesting, because Pride is never not interesting with your friends. At least they’ll be amusing. While you’ve always known your life was complicated, you never quite comprehended how complicated. How complicated, and full of love.





	

**Author's Note:**

> sometimes depressing things happen around you and you decide to write some completely self-indulgent shit  
> like me and this fic, for instance

_33 for, and 29 against._ That’s how the weekend begins.

You remember CNN reporting the ruling to legalize same-sex marriage in New York, while you were still at work. It was a night that would go down for you as one of the better ones, despite the unrelenting pace of PICU.

June 24th, 2011.

And then there was Meenah asking you, at five in the morning on Saturday, that since you two could actually make this a reality without having to go to fucking Taxachusetts (her words, not yours), if you would marry her.

Five minutes after you say yes, the following things have already happened. Mituna calls dibs on being the maid of honor so ze can give the world’s longest toast, and is apparently willing to battle Latula at Dance Dance Revolution for the title/distinction. Kurloz calls dibs on being that guy who takes shitty polaroid photos of all the reception shenanigans and hotboxes the bathroom of the reception hall. 

Calliope wants to be a groomsman and wear a debonair suit.

Well, that’s one sane request, at least.

Your roommates are either the absolute greatest, or the most awful. 

You text your sister next, and she congratulates you on both the legislation passing, and on your engagement.

Then, she makes an odd request of you, but one you agree to with few reservations.

A few hours pass, and you manage to get some sleep in the interim. Kurloz goes to work. Mituna goes to class. Calliope plays backgammon on their laptop. All is silent, calm, and therefore nice. You don’t have to cook for anyone. You don't have to chase anyone to take their medication. You do not have to mediate any arguments.

You could just go back to sleep, except you have to meet Kanaya.

So you go all the way home for the first time in years. Not to 58 Chrystie Street, but to Crown Heights. You ring the doorbell of your old house.

You’re nervous in these familiar surroundings, until you see _her_. Your little sister, about to graduate from high school. Going to be seventeen in September. She answers the front door, walks outside, and, wearing flats, she’s taller than you are.

That wasn’t the case the last time you two compared heights, the last time you lived in the same home. 

You know you and she haven’t seen much of each other since you moved out, but she’s at least two inches taller than you now. She was shorter than you in 2008, so she's shot up like a weed.

How did you miss something like that?

How do you lose that much time?

"It's wonderful to see you," she says, the fabric of her red skirt - the one you made her, with the white buttons on it - fluttering in the breeze. She doesn't have to raise the hem to keep the bottom from brushing the ground anymore. You smile.

"Definitely," you say, though not quite as warmly as you would like.

You and she put distance between yourselves and that house, relaxing more as the distance increases. Once you're a good half mile away, you two make easy conversation in Akan, your voices rising in volume, your names from Ghana slipping free.

Kanaya watches a few young girls play double dutch, somewhat enviously. 

“Adwoa, you could just ask them to let you play, if you want to.”

You would, if you had the inclination, yourself. You, Feferi, and Kanaya used to be great at double dutch. Then, there was Meenah, who could play all afternoon and into the evening without a break. She blew you three out of the water.

“I think I’m too old for that now,” she says, and you decide not to argue the point.

Half a block later, she points to your uncovered arms, to the black tattoos that sinuously wind and swirl their way from your wrists to your shoulders, and there’s a knowing look in her eyes.

“Those are interesting, Akuba, and rather familiar.”

They should be.

“There was a dress you were designing two weeks before I left, with a very distinct pattern. The one you called your most experimental work so far,” you reply. “When I was shoving shit into my suitcase, and trying to get out the window before Agya figured out the lock on the door, I picked up a few of your sketches, because I didn’t know when I’d see them again. Later, when I got my apartment, I decided I wanted a tattoo that reminded me of the family I still had. And your sketches were in one of my suitcases.”

“When did you get the tattoos?” she wants to know. “I’ve never seen them, and they look fresh. Or well-maintained.”

You think for a moment.

“The end of 2008,” you figure. “It took several sessions, so they may not have been done until early 2009. The pattern is on my legs, too.”

You raise the hem of your green maxi dress so that she can see them. She expresses her surprise in a blend of Akan and English at first, only deciding on a single language after a few sentences.

“I can’t believe you’ve had those for more than two years, and I didn’t notice,” she says, a little wistful.

“I can’t believe that you got taller than me, and I missed that,” you reply.

She laughs for a good few seconds about that, mocking you gently for being the smaller one now. You suggest that her updo is giving her an unfair advantage. She offers to let her hair down, to prove her stature, but not seriously, because then she’d have to pin it back into place.

“It’s really quite funny when I go to school each day,” Kanaya says. “My girfri–” She stops short, as if someone has muted the volume on her voice with a remote control. Her eyes dart to and fro. She won’t meet your eyes. Then, she seems to regain her train of thought, if not her old ease of speech. “A friend of mine, I mean, in many of of my classes. One of the close friends that I made. We spend a lot of time together. At any rate, she’s not even five foot three, and you know how fond I am of my high heels, Akuba.”

Of course. You're shocked she's not wearing a pair now.

“You used to hate the idea of them until I started wearing them,” you recall. “But you always had better posture, so you wear them better.”

“That I do.”

You grin. “And you’re such a modest woman, despite it all.”

You two lean on each other and laugh for a while. You’ve earned it.

“As I was saying, about this girl, my friend?  Well, I’m maybe five ten without heels. And with them, I have to be as tall as someone like Mituna. So whenever she and I were walking to classes together, and talking about things, you know, the way you do with your close friends, well, she’s almost a foot shorter than I am. Such a nightmare! If I were trying to whisper something to her, it just looked ridiculous!”

“It certainly sounds that way,” you reply neutrally.

While you’ve mostly outgrown your old propensity for gossiping needlessly, you still hear a great deal of it, and interact with many people. And even if you lived a practically asocial existence, you have never been an unintelligent young woman.

In other words, you have read the writing on the wall.

You knew why Kanaya called you over here as soon as she made the request of you, on today of all days. You’ve known certain truths about your sister for nearly as many years as you’ve known them about yourself. Watching her trying to scramble to hide it from you hurts, partially because you don’t know why she would be so afraid to trust you, but mostly because you remember the pain of hiding, and hiding badly, from the people you love.

You want to remind her of who you are, of what your life is, of all the choices you made, and tell her how proud you are of her, even if she can’t quite tell you what this secret of hers is yet. You’re proud of her because she is your sister, she has achieved so much, you love her, and you’d walk through fire for her.

You two keep walking down Eastern Parkway, without speaking to each other. The silence is practically deafening.

Kanaya breaks it abruptly, pointing to your ink again. “You got those all over your arms and legs, just from something I sketched?”

“I thought my first tattoos should be something meaningful, and those were good sketches. Moreover, when you’re a famous designer, then I can brag to all my friends about how this is a Kanaya Maryam original, and I got it several million years before you were cool.”

You expect her to laugh and protest at the last bit, but Kanaya just shakes her head, sits on a nearby bench, and puts her head in one hand.

“You okay, Adwoa?” you ask.

“Ena and Agya wouldn’t let me go to Parsons School of Design. They even got angry at me when I tried to get scholarships, especially when I got a few of them,” she tells you. “They say that fashion is impractical, that I'm being childish and ungrateful by asking to go, and refuse to give me any money in support if I tried it.”

Fuck.

_What the fuck?_

Your parents stopped being able to ruin your life three years ago, so they had to go and ruin hers?

You hate them. You hate them so very much. Years pass, but that sentiment remains. It does not ebb. It does not die.

“Why didn’t you call me?” you ask her, trying not to let anger seep into your tone. You're not angry at her. “I might have been able to do something, if I had known.”

“You had nursing school and rotations, and when I called you, you always sounded so tired,” she says. “Besides, it’s not like you have any great windfall of money.”

“I have surprisingly good credit. Maybe I could have taken out some loans,” you say.

“I would never have asked so much of you.”

You try to get her to see it your way.

“Well, if I had managed it, I would have killed two birds with one stone. I would have helped you achieve some of your dreams, and I would have told Agya that he could take his fucking patriarchal authoritarian bullshit, fuck off, and die. Come to think of it, I would have done both of those at the same exact time.”

“That’s rather extreme, even for Agya.”

Right. She does not swear nearly as much as you do. Not even mentally, probably.

“You live with Mituna for three years and see how many four letter words you learn,” you say, as a halfassed way of defending your word choices.

She doesn’t chide you, though. She just gets up, and keeps walking. 

You try to match her pace perfectly, the way you two used to walk everywhere side by side, before September 2008, when you were on the same wavelength.

In an idle fantasy, you try to act as if you never got thrown out of your house for your sexual orientation, like your father and mother didn’t remove every single picture of you from the walls and counters, like this area is still your home, and you’re not half looking over your shoulder to make sure you don’t run into any of your relatives.

Your parents forbade Kanaya from maintaining contact with you, lest she face a similar fate to yours, so you’re keeping an eye out.

She sits down on a bench again. This time, she balls up her fists in her skirt and starts to unconsciously wring the thin, red fabric. A sort of fear that reminds you of agony has written itself into every inch of her face. 

She takes one deep breath. And then two.

And eventually, forty-five.

She turns to you, and apologizes for bringing you here, in case she’s brought up bad memories, or worse off, endangered you by having you come here, given your relationship with your parents.

“I’m sorry for everything, Akuba, but I didn’t know if I would have went through with it if I had to take the train to Chinatown,” she confesses. “I don’t know if I can go through with it now.”

“Go through with what?”

“I have to tell you something.”

Kanaya’s lower lip trembles, as if she may cry. You can count all the times you’ve seen her do so on three fingers. You wrap an arm around her and hold her as close as you can.

“You know, Adwoa,” you begin. “You can tell me anything. Anything at all, and I promise that I will not judge you. You could tell me that you’re a vampire, and every night, you search Liberty Avenue for victims. You could tell me that you’re running drugs to Mexico for Vriska, but then, I’d probably put you in touch with Kurloz. You could tell me that you killed Agya and buried his body in the baseme–”

“Akuba!” Kanaya warns, but there’s no real reproach in it. She’s on the verge of a smile. She sounds less like she’s about to have a breakdown.

“It’s a silly thing to get so worked up about, I guess,” she starts off. “And you never thought anything like this was a big deal. In fact, this is part of who you are, but I’m still afraid about it? I’m scared to say it?”

You gaze at her seriously. “With stuff like that, a lot of times, you feel less afraid once you’ve said it out loud. Remember when you used to rip your bandaids off all at once?”

“Yes?” Kanaya responds.

“It’s like that,” you suggest. “So, chances are that you’ll feel better after you get it over with.”

“I think that I’m, well…” Kanaya stops. “Well, I don’t think it. I’m actually pretty certain of it. I am probably, um…”

“Oh, just fuck it!” she finally exclaims, startling the hell out of you. A few pigeons fly away. “I’m not straight. At all. I don’t experience attraction to men, or to anyone besides women, and I never have, and I don’t think I ever will. I’m a lesbian.”

You had a completely tactful and understanding thing that you were going to say, and then you forgot it. When you don’t respond immediately, Kanaya seems fearful of your hesitancy. You decide to take a page from your roommate's book and say exactly what you’re thinking, even if you’re not saying what you want to.

“Honestly, I thought I was going to have something way more intelligent to say if this ever happened,” you start out. “Because pretty much everyone has come out of the closet to me. I’ve seen this so many times I can’t even count anymore. This is different, though.”

“Is it really?” Kanaya asks, worried.

“It’s different because you are my sister, I love you more than almost anyone, and I am so happy that you feel able to trust me with this,” you say. “And because I know how hard coming out to people is, but you did it anyway, even though you were afraid, so I’m more proud of you than I can articulate.”

“Oh,” comes her gentle response.

When you embrace her tightly, she hugs you back with equal force.

You let go of her.

“You’re getting ready to go to college. You’re going to meet a lot of women, and some of them will be like you, and others won’t. It might take a while, but you will meet the right one, or ones. And when you do, it’ll be one of the best feelings you experience.”

But nervous Kanaya is back in full force. You two keep walking and talking.

“That’s the other thing. That I wanted to tell you, I mean.” She considers her words, as usual. “I get the feeling that I’ve already met the right one, and she was the girl I was talking to you about before. I’ve been dating her since sophomore year. Her name’s Rose. Rose Lalonde.”

You figure that now isn’t the best time to tell her that you’ve known that since her sophomore year.

“As far as high school relationships go, you two are practically married at this point,” you say, and you’re only half-joking.

Kanaya still looks somewhat upset, although not at what you said.

“I’m sorry for not telling you when it happened, but first you got kicked out, and then you were apartment hunting, and then you were in school, and then you were in even more school, and then you were doing the roommate shuffle, and after a while I thought you might get mad at me because I had gone so long without saying anything, so I… went on not saying anything. Not my most logical moment.”

“Adwoa, have I ever gotten really mad at you about anything major?” you ask.

She doesn’t think hard before she answers, “no.” That’s comforting.

“When was the last time I got moderately pissed off at you?”

Kanaya racks her brains.

“I broke one of your shoes a few years ago, I think.”

“Exactly,” you say. “I’m rarely even annoyed at you, and even if it happened, it would not be over something like what you’ve told me, or the way you told me, or when you told me, or anything related to such a matter. You have my word on that.”

“Thank you.”

You’ve realized why she thought you might have gotten angry.

“I know I was mad a lot when we were younger. I know there was screaming, back and forth with me and our parents. But I was never, ever angry with you.” 

She nods.

You sigh. 

“There really was a lot of yelling, wasn’t there?” you ask.

“Between you and them, yes,” Kanaya admits. “You told me you were a lesson in what not to do, remember?”

You laugh, somewhat mirthlessly. You don’t like remembering it. You were never the right sort of child, the one who would be seen and not heard.

Everything needed a reason, with you. Everything needed a justification. Things couldn’t just “be”. And there were consequences for that, consequences you faced. Your aunt had a saying: a hard head makes a soft behind. But you continued to question everything. When your parents shouted, you shouted right back. You knew as a child that respect was earned, not inherent, even if you lacked the wisdom to pick your battles. Your parents weren’t correct just because they were bigger, with bigger voices, and bigger hands, and you made sure they knew that.

But you didn’t think long on the effect that sort of behavior might have had on Kanaya. How scared she must have been, not just of them, but of you. You never shouted at her, but you were the reason why they shouted so much. They seldom hurt her, but the ability and possibility was still there - she watched you go through it - and she didn’t forget it.

“I hated them, and I’m sorry you got caught in the crossfire,” you say. “The older I got, the more I learned, and the more I hated them. They were inflexible. And they acted like they could do no wrong. No compromises. No discussions.”

“What about Ena?” Kanaya asks. “She was kind most of the time.”

You think of how your mother slapping you around when you were in twelfth grade. You had been given detentions for a protest your crew staged in the courtyard, one that grew far larger than intended. Some girls couldn’t even attend high school, and you had the audacity to complain about your education? Your mother wouldn’t stand for such a thing.

You think of your mother begging your father to stop beating you on the night you left (the night you were thrown out), but she didn’t jump up to stop him. Kanaya was far more ready to resist than she was.

So kind is not the appropriate word, not even a synonym.

“She’s complicit. She smiled, and sat, and nodded,” you respond. “I understand why she did, why she does, but you can understand a thing and not condone it.”

“I guess you’re right,” she says. “It’s rather strange, trying to compare, because they were never so hard on me. It’s almost like we had different parents.”

You beg to disagree, but you don’t say so. Everyone processes things differently. Everyone writes the narrative of their life differently. 

And you two are nearly at Prospect Park, now. Did you really walk so far?

You think of a long time ago - a long time ago, in this park - and you’re grateful for the thought. It’s a nice one.

A long time ago, back when there were Twin Towers, and the year 2000 was still something to be feared (what if Y2K?), and you weren’t allowed to watch television because it would rot your mind, so you read all the books you could find, particularly the ones you were told not to read, and you wore a Catholic school uniform with stockings and thick-soled Mary Janes every single day.

You were nine and in the fifth grade.

You think of the kid you met on the swings, who was also in fifth grade but at a public school, the one you thought was a boy, the one who thought he was a boy, the one with a shaggy mess of eye-obscuring black hair, with clothes that didn’t fit right and were sometimes ripped, to the point where you eventually brought your little sewing kit to the park and tried to fix what you could, who spoke both AAVE and Cantonese far more fluently than English.

You think of how you disobeyed your parents to see where he lived, somewhere you almost got mugged, after you’d played with him a few more times. You were awestruck by how so many people lived in his drafty house, and how they argued constantly, and you couldn’t understand what they were saying. You knew this much, though: his mother hugged him and his brother all the time. She always sounded worried about them. His father dug around for the last of the change he could find in the couch cushions, so they would have some pocket money. Their family was always kind to you, kinder than your parents were. Whenever someone messed with Sollux for being a scrawny Asian kid, they’d have to deal with Mituna, another scrawny Asian kid, but one who could fight pretty well. And while Mituna complained about his obligations when he was outside, he’d sit listen to his mother rage against her hallucinations, try to distract her with stories about school, and then bang forever on the doors of locked wards that told him he was too young to visit. 

This was a family that loved its members with a fearsome totality, fearsome because you hadn’t known it could be like that, so complicated, yet complete.

The closest you came to that was with Kanaya. When she was a baby, you just wanted to make her smile. She did the same with you. As a a child, she made clothes for your dolls. While you both liked sewing, she had the better head for design. Older, you made clothes for both her and her dolls every so often.

You always wanted her to know she was loved. You wanted to shield her from everything that could hurt her, including your own family.

Realizing that she could hold her own and be just fine was freeing, but terrifying.

“What are you thinking now, Akuba?” she wants to know.

Kanaya always knows when you get caught in your cognition. You turn to her, once more.

“You know, when I was in the fifth grade, I had this plan that I was going to run away from home, and take you with me,” you say.

“Where were we going to go?”

“Mituna said we could live under hir bed, because there were a lot of people in hir house, and hir room was a mess, so nobody would ever find us, and also ze’d break Sollux’s Gameboy if he said anything.”

Kanaya snorts.

“You two always had the worst plans,” she reflects. “Mituna would come up with a bad plan, and then you’d find some way to make it sound logical, and then you two would go running to make it happen, while Sollux and I pretended we had no idea who you two were.”

You chuckle. “I’m surprised you say that in the past tense.”

Kanaya stretches her arms outward, beneath the afternoon sun, basking in its warmth.

“You two did make a run for it, didn't you? You got an apartment successfully. One of your bad ideas did work.”

“Sometimes all you have to do is take a bad idea, tweak the conditions a bit, and then it becomes a decent idea,” you say, because you have an old bad idea that you’re modifying ever-so-slightly right this minute.

“Is that so?”

“It is,” you reply. “For instance. How about we try that running away thing again, but you come with us this time? And it’s just for one day. Not even a night. You can run away, but I’ll have you home before curfew.”

Kanaya raises her eyebrows. “I never knew you were so fond of speaking in riddles.”

You want to bask in the sunshine too, because you should have thought of this earlier, and now you have. You throw your arms out and twirl around once, twice, thrice. This does nothing to convince your sister of your sanity.

“Do you know what the Pride March is?” you finally ask her.

Kanaya nods. “Yes. Rose went with Dirk last year, and they told me a few things about it when they got back.”

As much as you think she might enjoy it, you don’t want to push your sister into anything she doesn’t want to do.

“It would be a giant step to take out of the closet,” you say. “But my friends and I go every year. You could come with us and march, if you want. You can bring your girlfriend with you. If you don’t want to go, you don’t have to. No pressure.”

“When is it?” Kanaya murmurs.

“Tomorrow.”

“I see that I have quite a while to think it over.”

“It’s just a suggestion. If it’s not something you want to do this year, or any year, that’s completely fine.”

“No,” Kanaya says, sounding more sure of herself now than she has all day. “Rose already went to this once. If she and I go _together_ this time, then, she and I are going _together_.” 

She pauses, wrinkling her nose. “That sounded far more significant and far less self-evident in my head.”

You put your hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t worry, I understand what you’re trying to say.”

She folds her hands, the worried line between her eyebrows smoothing out. God, Kanaya’s way too serious most of the time. You need to get this girl to smile, and smile properly.

“I want to go,” Kanaya declares. “What do I have to do?”

“You and Rose should be at my apartment by 7:30 tomorrow morning, if you’re both coming,” you say. “And if our parents ask where you’re going, say you have graduation practice.”

It’s a halfway decent lie. Her graduation’s close enough that it makes logical sense. And like Kanaya said, they don’t exactly suspect her of much, since she didn’t make it a point to fuck up the way you did. 

“A lot of good that’s going to do if I end up on the news,” she frets. “There will be news crews there, especially the given recent legislation. You know what they’ll probably do to me at home, if they see anything like that.”

You inhale sharply through your nostrils, trying not to be furious at the very idea of someone hurting her.

“Listen to me.” You stand on your tiptoes so you’re eye to eye with her. “If anything like that does go down, God forbid, or if they try to do anything to you before you start college, you can just stay with me until you move onto campus. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

However, Kanaya gazes at you rather sadly.

“You never did. Ever. Not even when you were leaving. Not even when you left. Not even when I could have helped. Not even when I wanted to.”

You recall screaming as your father vented his displeasure for your relationship with a woman, how Kanaya was ready to take him in a fight to protect you from further physical harm, and you just shook your head at her. Gestured at her to stay back. Gave her a pleading stare, and pulled yourself together enough to mouth the words “go outside”, pointing at the back door. Instructions that she ultimately heeded.

Then you packed as much of your shit as you could before your father could figure out how to unlock your door - thankfully, some of Kanaya’s sketches were among those belongings - climbed out of your first floor window, into the backyard, and ran for it. You did not say goodbye. You ran past Kanaya and kept going.

You refrained from telling her where you were going to live even once you figured it out. She’d always talk about how she wanted to see your place when you got it. You didn’t want her to act on an impulse to visit you, and then rain down your father’s ire upon her, should he find out. She’s a bad liar. You know she would have done it, just to make sure you had enough food and money, or just to know what was going on with you. You knew how much she loved you, and you didn’t want that to jeopardize her safety.

Your parents had made it clear exactly the sort of punishment she could expect from continuing to interact with you. You were dead to them. It was as if they never had a daughter who was born in 1990, valedictorian to her high school class, who liked to stay out late, and who could cook almost as well as her mother. You were an unperson.

You assumed the easiest path for Kanaya would be the one of least resistance against your parents. Of acting like an only child, aside from the Pesterchum messages you sent each other every so often. 

You were wrong, but you didn’t know that yet.

So you pulled away. Eventually, she followed your lead, and pulled away, too.

“I just wanted to protect you,” you say defensively. “I just wanted to make sure nothing happened to you.”

“I know you were protecting me, but I would have been okay if you hadn’t.” She sighs. “I had a conversation with Mituna about something like this once.”

“Did you?” That’s… odd, the thought of her and Mituna talking. “How did it go?”

Kanaya inhales, as if she’s about to say something not altogether comforting.

“You try to protect everyone who means anything to you, but you’re scared to let them do the same for you.”

You’re not sure what to say to that.

A minute later, Kanaya apologizes for even bringing it up.

You walk her from the park halfway back to that house. Once you two reach the train station, or, one of them at least, you stop. You tell her that this is where you’re leaving her.

She takes a small envelope out of her pocket and gives it to you.

You try to return it.

“Adwoa, I am not taking any of your money.”

She’s always trying to give you money when she can.

“It’s not money, but it is for you,” she says. “Open it.”

You do.

It’s some kind of ticket, like the kind you get to see Broadway shows. You glance at the information on the ticket.

It’s for something being held at the Beacon Theatre in a few days. Interesting, even if you’ve never been one for plays.

Then, you read everything on the ticket properly, and you start to cry.

Seconds after, you’re crying in earnest, a small sob escaping your throat.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t go to your graduation, Akuba,” Kanaya says gently, tears running freely down her face. “But you can go to mine.”

You take a tissue out of your purse and dab at the areas under your eyes. You hand her one. You compose yourself, and put away the ticket.

“You’ll be seated on the stage, won’t you? Not with everyone else,” you confirm.

“I will be seated with the National Honor Society, yes.”

“Then I’ll be able to see you the entire time,” you realize aloud. “I’m proud of you, you know.”

“I’m proud of you, too,” Kanaya responds. “I saw the pictures from your graduation. You looked beautiful.”

You looked fried from finals and angry because the cat had puked on the dress you’d actually planned to wear under your robe, but that’s not the point, exactly.

You and your sister clasp hands for a few more moments.

Then you get on the train, go home, and thank the powers that be that you’re not working tonight.

You tell Mituna that you’re going to Kanaya’s graduation, since you know ze’s going for Sollux.

“Fucking excellent!” ze says, high fiving you. “I got someone to fall asleep on when Sollux has to give his valedictorian speech, ‘cause you know that shit is gonna be boring as fuck.”

You think this is Mituna-speak for, “I’m so proud and happy for my brother and everything he has achieved!” Possibly.

You know ze told him that ze was proud of him three times, exactly three times, and Sollux will probably have to cure cancer to get hir to admit it again. To be fair, Sollux is the same way.

Fairly early that evening, you fall asleep while Mituna and Kurloz watch Dawn of the Dead, and Calliope asks if they can watch Finding Nemo next. You didn't do all that much today, but you're exhausted. In the morning, you try not to be too sad that Meenah isn’t going to pride. She already asked you to marry her, so it’s not as if you need to wonder about where you two stand all that much. Still, you wish you could march with her.

Your roommates aren’t going to let you be contemplative for long, though.

First off, they have wine. A lot of wine. Three boxes of cheap wine that Kurloz got from that place on Bowery, which is enough wine to endrunken half your friends.

Calliope is barred from having more than two glasses, but Mituna and Kurloz are relying on you being too occupied yelling at someone else to worry much about how much either of them have to drink. You don’t want to know how many glasses they had before you woke up. You’re on your second, and you’ve been up for an hour.

Mituna resurrects hir forty or so rainbow colored bracelets from last year’s festivities and starts putting them on. Ze’s wearing a tiny pair of sequined gold shorts, which you got for hir, a black tank top, and hir giant transgender flag cape.

All you have to do is hir makeup, later. When you ask what ze wants, ze tells you, “just fuck me up.”

The march isn’t for a few hours yet and ze’s already having the time of hir life. Like always.

“We gotta celebrate this shit, man,” ze says. “Some fuckers got the right to get married. No idea what it has to do with me, but we need to party hard.”

You nod, thoughtfully, from the sofa.

“While this is arguably a step forward, it is one that continues to leave behind the rights of some of the most vulnerable members of our communi–”

Mituna blows a raspberry at you before you can finish.

“Exactly what I was saying, but more boringly. New rule: no more social justice fuckshit. If I wanted to be depressed, I’d just look at my final grade for Quant Mech,” ze says. “So I’ll slingshot Kurloz’s shorts at you if I hear any social justice shit from you today.”

“What if he’s still wearing the shorts in question?” you ask with a sleepy grin.

Kurloz signs something you don’t catch. You ask Mituna for clarification.

“He says it won’t be the first time you’ve seen his ass before. Fuckin’ heterosexuals tryna shove their lifestyle down my throat.”

You put your hands on your hips in mock offense.

“I am arguably the least heterosexual person you know.”

Mituna tries to devise a smartass response to that for two or three minutes before conceding the point.

In hir estimation, you are approximately 75% dyke by volume (how does that measurement work?) You are the first homo ze ever knew, definitely the first one who came out, and the loudest womanist on the planet. You are truly a paragon of what it is to be mad gay. You have innovated the field of homo, and no, that was not necessarily a reference to your skills in bed. In fact, if ze were still in high school, and ze had to write a report about a person ze admired, ze would write about Pomary McAsspain, the gayest, most fashionable woman on the face of the earth.

Kurloz falls off the couch laughing. He mouths the words “Pomary McAsspain” every so often, unable or unwilling to do much else.

Calliope, who had heretofore been trying to put on their binder, snorts so hard that they start choking on their own saliva. You clap them on the back until they stop.

“For what it’s worth, that’s probably the best speech I’ll hear all day.” you respond, once you’re finished laughing. You take out your phone and start scrolling through your contacts. “Okay, hold on a second. Who’s meeting us here before we head uptown? I don’t want to forget anyone.”

“Tula, Terezi, uh, Rufioh, younger Rufioh, the Striders, Horuss, Kankri, Meulin, and more of the younger fucks. Pretty much everyone.” Mituna adjusts their shorts, which have begun to ride up. “Also, I will pay you twelve cigarettes to forget about Kankri.”

“Who the hell invited Kankri?” Kurloz signs.

You deftly flip the both of them off while you check your text messages, in case anyone has sent you something.

“Nah, Popo, you don’t understand,” Mituna begins. “If Kankri’s coming, he’s probably bringing Cronus with him, since they’re butt buddies.”

You had not considered that possibility surprisingly.

The look on your face could be best described as the sort someone gets when a few of their hopes and dreams die. Not all of them. But at least two or three major ones.

“Okay, new plan,” you start out. “If Kankri does bring Cronus, and if Cronus does anything slightly questionable, I’ll punch him clear to Harlem.”

“That works,” Mituna says.

“Why are we punching Cronus?” Calliope asks.

“You don’t even want to know the half of it,” Mituna tells them.

That’s for sure.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Kurloz signs, making sure you can see his hands and mouth. “Let Cronus come. I haven’t seen Porrim punch him since the last time she punched him.”

Way to state the completely obvious.

“And then the time before that,” Mituna remembers. “And that other time, back in freshman year.”

“Which freshman year?” Kurloz wants to know. “High school or college? She punched him in both of them.”

You roll your eyes as far back as they’ll go.

“You two make it sound like all I ever did was go around punching Cronus. Generally there was some kind of provocation that preceded acts of physical violence on my part.” Your eye twitches, as you stand there thinking of this stuff. “Like a verbal request for him to remove his hand from my ass. Or several.”

Mituna shrugs. “We didn’t say he didn’t have it coming. They should like, nominate you, for like, a congressional nobel medal of being fucking badass, for your um, contributions to public safety.”

Kurloz nods vigorously. Callie continues to seem mildly confused. Cronus never tried to hit on them, since they look about thirteen at best. Thank God. If he’d ever tried to put the moves on them, you think everyone would have tag-team kicked his ass.  

Then, you kiss Mituna on the cheek for what ze said, amused as hell once more. It’s been too many years, and you’re still best friends.

Ze throws an arm around your shoulders and shouts, “33 to 29, goddamnit! Fuck all you hating ass Republican fuckers! The queers are gonna take all your goddamn wedding cake and then make communism and more homos out of it!”

You need to remember that to tell that one to Latula later. You two have a document full of some of the better things Mituna has said, which is most of them.

“Maybe we should save the yelling for the march?” Calliope suggests.

Kurloz shakes his head.

“This is clearly the first time you’ve gone to pride with them,” he signs.

“It is,” they reply. “It’s my first time going at all. I’m a little nervous about it.”

“It’s okay to be nervous,” you say.

Kurloz and Mituna look at each other.

Kurloz properly parks his ass back on the couch. You turn so you can understand him.

“Alright fuckers, it’s story time.”

Dear God, you haven’t had enough wine for this.

“Can I get the sparknotes on this one?” Mituna asks. “Your stories are always way fucking long.”

“I _am_ the motherfucking sparknotes. _I am the fucking resurrection and the life._ Now shut the fuck up and listen to your messiah,” he replies. “Once upon a time, it was like the year before last maybe. We all were motherfucking young and innocent. Wait, that part’s bullshit. Anyway, Mituna, Porrim, Latula, Eridan - no clue who invited him - and like, Rufioh, I think, decided to pregame before going to pride. They up and had themselves Everclear, and they drank some at Latula’s. Then, they left for the other side of the motherfucking city. So for the whole ride there, I had to listen to them yelling ‘Out of the closets, into the streets!’ in a train, with Mituna leading the chant. And then when ze started slurring, Pomary took over.”

That’s not how you remember it.

“I took over after Latula, who took over after Mituna. And then Rufioh took over after me. Or Eridan.”

“One of you took over, and it doesn’t really matter who because you were all drunk and loud as fuck,” Kurloz signs. He turns to almost fully address Calliope. “Best part about it was, like half the fuckers on the train were headed toward the march, decked out in rainbow shit and all that, so they actually started chanting with them. Nobody got motherfucking arrested, yelling their asses off on this fucking train. It was just a bunch of shouting homos for ten stops. Moral of the story, Callie? Sometimes shit happens and it don’t make jack shit for sense.”

“If I were to ever start a band, you’ve given me an idea for the name,” you say.

“Nobody got arrested?” he signs.

“Just a bunch of shouting homos.”

Mituna demands that you start this band. Callie can do vocals with their crazy operatic range, you can be on percussion since you played the drums and the sideways xylophone thing ( _it’s called a glockenspiel, Mituna_ ) several years ago, Kurloz can have forty minute guitar solos, and Mituna can play something cool like the electric double bass. If you didn’t know ze could play the regular version of that instrument, you would have assumed ze made it up.

“That is…” Calliope thinks for a moment. “Actually, a very inspiring story, when I consider it. So are we going to be shouting a lot at the march?”

Mituna cackles.

“If you get through the whole thing and you still have your hearing at the end, we did it wrong.”

“The first time I went to pride, there was ringing in my ears afterwards,” you say honestly.

“Yeah, ‘cause you were like fifteen, and your mom shouted at you for two hours for coming in past your curfew, and then your dad shouted at you even harder, and then you walked the fuck out of your house and hid out at mine for three days, and my house is always loud as fuck,” Mituna recalls. “Real talk, though, It’s not always super loud, but we’re usually pretty loud.”

“It sounds intriguing,” Calliope says.

“Oh, you’ll see a lot of intriguing things,” you assure them. “This was actually one of the most liberating events I’d been to, the first year I went.”

Mituna nods sagely. “Also, you’re gonna see a lot more half naked people than you usually do on the street. They’re pretty intriguing too.”

You punch hir in the arm, since that was not what you meant by “intriguing”, and instead of recoiling, ze seems like ze’s been struck with an idea.

“Wait, Pomary. Kanaya and Rose are coming here. And then they’re coming with us.”

You don’t understand what the problem is.

“Yes, yes they are,” you reply. “I invited them to come with us, and they accepted the invitation.”

“Is your sister aware of the oncoming amount of half naked and or drunk people? You know everyone’s gonna be partying harder than usual,” Mituna says. “Or is she gonna take one look and faint? Cause she’s way fuckin’ tall, so I’m not carrying her anywhere.”

“I did give her that particular talk over Pesterchum, yes. And I think you are overestimating Kanaya’s inclinations toward fainting at the slightest issue.”

“Sollux would so faint,” Mituna points out. “He’d get one block, see too much sequined dong, and conk the fuck out. Fuck, I should have told him to come.”

“Don’t worry, we can text him pictures, if you really feel the need to kill him before graduation,” you say. “Also, I promised your mom I’d send her pictures of us, so try not to look completely debauched.”

Mituna’s parents are supportive of hir, although they don’t completely understand. Ze says they get the important parts of hir identity. It’s sweet. Particularly Mituna’s mother, who always wants pictures of all of you. She hangs them up in the living room. 

“Unrelated, but I believe that Rose is also bringing Roxy,” Calliope says, trying very badly to hide their expression of absolute glee. 

You’re glad for them, that they and Roxy have each other. You ruffle their hair, and straighten their tie.

“Well, you do look splendid,” you say.

Callie blushes. Mituna high fives them for landing a girlfriend, citing the _“_ insane level of game” they have. Ze keeps forgetting ze’s already high fived them for that. Ze has probably been doing it four times a week since they announced their relationship. You don’t think they mind in the slightest.

“Kurloz, are you planning to get ready?” you ask.

He’s wearing what he’s been wearing for the last two days: his face paint, his skeleton bodysuit, his unfathomably tiny pair of purple shorts, and he’s got his matching purple rain boots sitting at the door.

“I _am_ ready,” he signs. "I was motherfucking  _born_ ready."

You don’t know why you thought you’d get a different response. He starts putting on a few rainbow bracelets, and pours himself a glass of wine.

Maybe five minutes later, Kanaya’s the first to arrive out of the others who are meeting at your apartment. She has on a light cotton dress, a sunhat, and flip-flops. Good. You told her to dress comfortably.

After hugging her, you grab some of the rainbow bracelets that Mituna and Kurloz didn’t claim. You also offer her a glass of wine. One glass. You emphasize this, and you hand some of the bracelets over.

“If you want to wear them, of course,” you tell her.

She gives you the brightest smile.

“I do.” She puts them on. “I think I’ll give a few to Rose, too.”

“We definitely have enough,” you figure. “We always get rainbow colored things at the march each year, and then save everything for the next one. By the time you finish undergrad, we’ll be able to open a store.”

She laughs.

Then, she takes her glass of wine and sips from it slowly, occasionally making comments about how she likes something about how you’ve decorated the apartment. Mituna walks up to her, hand raised, and stops short, hand in the air. Kanaya leaves hir hanging, unsure of what to make of the whole thing.

“Man, you are _ice fuckin’ cold_ ,” Mituna says. “Just like Popo. Won’t even high five me.”

“I would have high fived you if I knew that was what you desired with that gesture,” Kanaya says. “Perhaps we can try this a second time?”

“Nah, you like, ruined it. It’s alright. I forgive you, though.”

Your sister exchanges a glance with you. You try to convey the sentiment _“do not take hir seriously, not even ze takes hirself seriously”_ with your eyes. You think she gets the gist of it.

She smiles back at Mituna.

“I like your outfit,” she says.

Mituna nods and gives her the thumbs up.

“Thanks. I wanted to look my fucking best.”

“It’s very um…” Kanaya pauses for a moment. “It’s ostentatious. Very you.”

“Yeah, I know,” Mituna says, grinning. “I gotta represent for like, two genders, so I gotta go _twice_ as hard.”

That gets a laugh out of Kanaya. She tells hir that ze is most definitely succeeding.

You’re more worried about Kurloz’s introduction to Kanaya. First off, Mituna and Kanaya have met several times. She doesn’t quite get hir, but ze can usually get her to laugh, one way or another.

Kurloz and Kanaya have had no such pleasant encounters.

The only thing Kurloz knows about Kanaya is that she punched Gamzee in the face and generally handed his ass to him when he lost his mind and got violent in Terezi’s direction. And Kurloz is fiercely protective of his younger brother, even when he’s done something fucked up. You don’t understand. Even Gamzee realized he fucked up when he was in his right mind, and didn’t begrudge Kanaya what happened.

But you protect your own, too. If Kurloz so much as touches her, he’ll be the one getting punched to Harlem instead of Cronus. Fuck Harlem. You’ll punch him way upstate and clear across the Canadian border.

Mituna senses a disturbance in the force and glances between all of you, all jokes forgotten. Ze extends hir arm to hold Calliope back instinctively.

Kurloz scribbles something on his legal pad, and hands it to Kanaya. You read it over her shoulder.

_“So you’re the bitch who decked my brother.”_

Kanaya nods.

For your part, you drop into a more strife-friendly stance, just in case.

“He was endangering another individual. I did what was necessary to prevent that situation from continuing,” she says, standing straight as she always does, gazing him dead in the eye, without an ounce of remorse in her tone.

She hands the pad to Kurloz, who snatches it back.

He considers the answer she’s given, then writes something a little longer than his first message.

_“You fucked him up him because he wasn’t in his right fucking mind, but you didn’t call the fucking cops, so you're not a total fucker, even if you’re a massive bitch. I am not your fucking friend or anything so don’t expect any goodwill shit like that.”_

Kanaya inclines her head in his direction, and crosses her arms over her chest.

“Well, Kurloz, I must say that it is a pleasure to meet you as well,” she replies. “Truly.”

None of you can predict what he does next.

Ten seconds later, he starts to laugh so hard that he starts wheezing and continues for a solid two minutes. You know your apartment has no AC in the summer, but the temperature isn’t high enough in here to be boiling his brains, not so early in the morning at any rate.

“Kurloz?” Calliope asks, somewhat alarmed.

They push past Mituna. Even they’re in their strife stance, although theirs is less “fight” and more “defense”.

Then, Kurloz starts signing vigorously, but he’s not facing you, so you can’t hope to understand any of it. Calliope and Mituna witness the gist of it, but Mituna isn’t looking for the entire thing.

Calliope gives a small sigh. Then, they begin to translate what he signed.

“Okay. Right. So Kurloz was laughing, because Kanaya - in his estimation - has quite similar speech patterns to Porrim, and because they also have a tendency toward almost identical diplomatically untrue greetings for people they have just met and already dislike intensely.”

Kurloz is by far one of the most capricious godforsaken people you have ever met. One minute he’s threatening your sister, the next minute he’s laughing at her.

“I bear no ill will toward Kurloz,” Kanaya says, sounding affronted. “I hardly even know him.”

Grinning, Kurloz signs something to Calliope, who acts as his interpreter a second time.

“Apparently, Kanaya, dear, you performed that intense dislike statement maneuver again.”

"Well, then," Kanaya says, not disagreeing.

You’re kind of hopeful that they might get along, now. At least to a degree where there’s no danger of physical violence. You’ve seen fights start up among your friends, and they’re usually annoying and tedious as hell for you, since you’re generally the one breaking them up.

Callie is not as hopeful. They smile, but it’s a strained one.

“I guess that’s all finished, then!” they say, the hint of a tense edge in their voice. “I think I’ll put on some of this rainbow attire as well.”

However, you don’t miss the glare Kurloz shoots your sister when Callie is no longer trying to stand between them. And, unflinching, Kanaya returns the glare measure for measure.

Kurloz is right. You and Kanaya’s mannerisms can be very close. Your methods of expression are even similar in certain respects. That said, she is too polite to give voice to many of the things you do, and to that end, she is not quite as direct.

As long as he keeps giving a girl five years his junior that glare, you need to say something to him. No one will strike Kanaya in front of you. No one without a death wish, anyway.

“Kurloz, stop looking at my sister like you want to hit her and listen to me,” you say, with the measured and tranquil fury you reserve for _special circumstances_. Calliope drops the bracelets in their hand. Mituna tenses up automatically. Ze knows what that tone means. “My sister fought your brother, because he struck someone else _first_. Whatever the reasons, it’s done. They are all on decent terms with each other presently. That situation is _resolved_. What will not be resolved is a situation where you engage in any act of physical violence toward Kanaya. In fact, I assure you that such a matter will only be resolved between you and me, it will most certainly be resolved with the aid of a lead pipe, and I do not intend to show you the slightest amount of mercy. Do you understand me?”

Kurloz nods.

“You really wanna up and make some righteous insinuations like that? Come at me, motherfucker, I dare you.” he signs, cracking his knuckles.

This is really not how you planned to spend your early morning.

You assess the other people in the apartment. You’re surprised that Kanaya isn’t looking at you or him, until you follow her line of sight to Calliope, who has a shoe in their left hand.

They throw it at the far wall, to get everyone’s attention with the clatter. 

All eyes turn to them.

“Let’s try not to entertain anything dangerous here,” they say, voice trembling. They slowly raise their hands up to cover their face, sounding as if they’re beginning to hyperventilate. “I do not believe anyone here needs to resort to such rash actions, or even suggestions. We’re roommates. We’re _friends._ Right?”

They close their eyes and stand stock still. They lean against, and slide halfway down the wall behind them.

You’d reach for them, but that could make the anxiety worse.

You decide not to make any movements that way. Kurloz nearly gets up off the couch to try to calm them down, but you stare at him and shake your head gently.

He nods. You two have that much of an understanding, now. You’ve both fucked up big time.

Kanaya stands in the middle of the apartment, with no idea of what to do.  

Then Mituna chimes in, and after ze does, your appreciation for hir general existence skyrockets. Because as much crap as you give hir about things like forgetting medication and fucking up laundry, only Mituna could fix things the way ze does.

“Calliope, nothing’s gonna go down ‘cept some marching later. We just started on the wine a little early,” Mituna says. Ze’s the closest to them in terms of literal proximity, and they open their eyes at the sound of hir voice. “None of these douches is gonna fight anyone, I’ll make sure of that shit. You’re gonna be good. I promise.”

They give a weak nod.

Mituna removes two or three of hir bracelets and holds them out to them. They lower their hands, if only to accept them.

“We got this. In for three, out for four, right?” Mituna asks. Once Calliope does some deep breathing and starts to calm down, ze gives them a few more bracelets. “Here, take some more fuckin’ rainbow swag. You’re gonna need it for Roxy, remember?”

“That’s right,” Calliope replies, with a weak smile. “Thank you.”

“I’ll help you get swagged the fuck out even harder, but I gotta say some important shit first, got it?”

“Got it.”

Mituna shakes the eternal tangle of hair out of hir eyes, and turns to look at you and Kurloz. You can tell exactly how ze’s feeling. They’re not annoyed. They’re not angry. They’re disappointed. Ze doesn’t yell at either of you in the least, the fact that their default volume is close to yelling notwithstanding.

“Seriously, I don’t know why the fuck everyone here’s always like ‘ _Tuna you got no common sense’_  cause you guys can be some pretty dumbass fuckers, far as I can tell. Cept Callie,” ze starts out. “We’re supposed to be having fun and shit and you guys are fuckin’ it all up and it’s not like the shit’s even started yet. That’s an achievement, but like, in the _wrong fuckin’ direction,_ you goddamn morons.”

“It was stupid of me to say what I did to Kurloz,” you admit, but Mituna keeps going like you’re not there.

“I punched Kankri in the head in like May and then he bitched at me for three hours, and you don’t see Crabby or Sollux threatening ultimate fuckin’ vengeance with a lead pipe like some shit outta some long-ass Quinto Tarantula movie,” ze says. “Fuck’s sake. They’re not ten, they can sort out their own shit, and they sorted their own shit, without you two getting all bent the fuck outta shape for them. Kurloz, you’re my true homeboy, but tryna start shit with some high school chick is a dick fucking move, I don’t care what the fuck happened. And Pomary, just back the fuck up and chill the fuck out, okay? Fucksakes, I’m surrounded by idiots.”

Calliope’s smile starts to threaten at the edges, in a good way, like they want to laugh.

But Mituna’s still not done. Ze must have taken a page from your book of the extended lecture of exasperation.

“This whole thing was deadass the dumbest thing I’ve witnessed this week and I had to listen to voicemails from Sollux and my uncle when I woke up today. Real talk, I don’t care what you two do to each other, as long as I can sell tickets for it, but this argumentative shit isn’t good for some of us and you both know it. While I cannot fuckin’ believe I am gonna say this, ‘cause I’m prolly gonna get struck by lightning ‘soon as I do, think the fuck before you speak or act or whatever the fuck, ‘cause it’s not just us three here,” ze goes on. “So, Popo, Kurloz, stop being fucking tools before I like tell your parents or your girlfriends or something. It’s not that hard.”

“You’re right, Tunasis.” Kurloz signs. “My bad to both the motherfucking Maryams. And also, to Callie, especially. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

That’s actually a decent Kurloz apology.

“What I said was thoughtless and overreactive,” you say. “Kurloz, I am sorry for my threats. And Calliope, I am beyond sorry for making you feel unsafe.”

Callie, being Callie, accepts all of these apologies, and says that they’re happy nobody will be kicking anyone’s ass today. 

(You don’t know about that just yet. The day is young. Today is Pride, so everyone’s going to drink. Cronus may or may not be making an appearance.) 

After that, Mituna looks somewhat satisfied.

Ze resumes adjusting their jewelry.

“Also, Kanaya, you are not a fucking tool, and I’m glad you’re around, so I wasn’t including you in what I just said,” ze clarifies. “And, your necklace is nice and stuff.”

_Her necklace?_

Oh. The one with the teardrop pendant. You remember when she got that, but you never asked who from, because she wasn’t out then, and you didn’t want to make her uncomfortable.

“Thank you,” Kanaya replies. “Rose got it for me a few months ago.”

“That’s the best kinda shit!” Mituna exclaims. “Shit your girlfriend got you. I have a whole bunch of stuff I got from my girls. Got a bunch of these bracelets from Tula. And uh, pretty sure Popo got me these shorts ‘cause she likes my ass or something. She’s not my girl, not really. Actually, I don’t know what the fuck, but I know but she’s totally gay for me.”

“Oh yes, Mituna,” you say, your tone threaded with obligatory sarcasm. “Don’t you know I can’t get enough of your gold sequined ass? And your inability to stop smoking weed in the apartment, I just love to luxuriate in eau de 420 whenever I lie down. Truly, you are a master of seduction.”

Mituna makes pelvic thrusting motions.

Kanaya raises an eyebrow. Maybe she’ll let hir have it.

(No, not at all. In fact, this will blow up in your face in 3… 2… 1…)

“Well, you two have been sleeping on the same futon for almost three years now,” Kanaya says. “And it was not the most platonic sort of sleeping, at least from what you may have implied to me, Porrim.”

That’s the one problem with your sister. Usually she’s rather prim and proper, but sometimes you catch her sardonic, blunt side, who will not let you get away with bullshit. You think you taught her that. You might regret it just a bit. No more wine for her.

“You gotta tell me what she implied to you,” Mituna insists. “Every single word. I need details. I need all the information, all of it. I want a paper, MLA format, no less than twenty-two pages. Actually, fuck MLA. My asshole profs use MLA. Use, uh, anything but MLA, otherwise you don't get credit.”

Kanaya’s cheeks flush. She covers her mouth with one hand, and gives you an apologetic look.

You just shrug. It’s not that big a deal. If you had a dollar for every time someone referenced this particular relationship, you’d be able to rent a bigger apartment and buy a nicer futon for these sexual encounters of yours.

“I am not quite sure where to begin,” she says.

That’s her way of wanting to say nothing.

Unfortunately, Mituna hears that and assumes that you must have sent so many texts about your trysts with hir, that poor Kanaya doesn’t know where to start.

“God _damn_ Pomary,” ze says. “So every time, after we were done, you just hit up your sister like, ‘ _dude, you gotta hear what Tuna did this time. My mind was so blown that I gotta write a novel about this_.’”

The look on your face must be spectacular, because Kurloz takes it in, writes something in his legal pad, and hands it to Kanaya.

First she’s confused, and then she has a true smile for him. 

You and Mituna are both confused.

“What I miss?” ze asks.

“He wrote that he likes me better now,” Kanaya replies.

You sigh deeply. “Kurloz likes anyone who messes with me. It’s the fastest way to become his friend. That or buy him a lot of weed.”

“We’ll make a proper member of the crew of you, yet,” Mituna says, tapping the brim of Kanaya’s sunhat. Ze subsequently takes the hat and puts it on. She doesn’t seem to mind. “So if you’re not gonna tell me what she said about me, you gotta tell me every embarrassing thing she’s ever done. _Ever._ ”

Kanaya rolls her eyes.

“Porrim’s existence predates mine by four years. I don’t think I could, even if I wanted to.”

“Man, invent time travel!” Mituna says. “You and Pomary skipped grades, you’re supposed to know hella shit!”

You decide to set the record straight.

“First off, Catholic school doesn’t count. I think they skipped us to get us out. Second off, Sollux will probably invent time before we do, because neither of us know the first thing about Physics except to avoid it. And once he does, I’ll ask him to use it to tell _me_ every embarrassing thing that _you_ have ever done, Mituna.”

Ze continues to wear hir stupid “so what” grin as if what you said didn’t register with hir.

“Oh, but I’ll still win this, and come out on top, heh, _on top_ ,” ze says. “You cannot embarrass someone who has absolutely no sense of shame.”

You don’t know if ze’s _completely_ devoid of shame.

“None whatsoever?”

“I will go streaking down Lexington Avenue for nothing but twenty bucks, bragging rights, and a giant bag of Fritos,” Mituna insists. “Actually, fuck that. I’ll go streaking past Bellevue while I know you’re working, under the same conditions.”

The really sad thing is that you could see this happening if ze were seriously intoxicated, and accompanied by someone like Kurloz. Who would probably also be intoxicated and streaking.

“If you do, they’ll just throw you in psych, where you can’t use your money, there’s nobody to brag to, and they probably won’t even let you _have_ your victory Fritos,” you point out.

Mituna gives hir usual eloquent response.

“Yeah, well fuck you!”

Kanaya observes this with what is by far the world’s best poker face.

“Well, Porrim, you were right about one thing you texted me last night,” she says.

“Yes?”

“I _am_ having an interesting time.”

Roxy and Rose are the next to arrive, if you can call their grand entrance an arrival.

Rose is just wearing a rainbow shirt and a pair of dark shorts.

But Roxy? She’s got on an identical rainbow shirt to Rose - except hers is three sizes larger and she’s wearing it as a dress - along with maybe twenty rainbow necklaces, rainbow flags painted in streaks across her cheeks, and a large rainbow flag tied around her neck, which she is wearing as a cape.

Rose and Kanaya use the diversion known as Roxy’s fashion choices to share a quick kiss and to start up a private conversation.

Roxy, who is completely sober, is just as loud and outgoing either way.

“Oh man, Porrim, it’s so cool to see you! How do you always look so perfect?”

You’re still wearing your nightgown, and it’s not particularly revealing. Your box braids are probably in slight disarray. You don’t get it.

“A great deal of effort,” you say, with a hint of sarcasm. You smile and beckon them in. “It’s great to see you, too. And I know someone else who definitely wants to see you.”

However, when you look for Callie, they’re gone. You wonder where they went. Knowing them, they looked at her, lost some of their nerve and ducked into the bathroom. You may have to rectify that.

But Roxy doesn’t seem to take it personally. She greets everyone else, just as exuberant as ever.

“Curly!” Roxy shouts at Kurloz. _“Curly, it you!”_

“It me!” Kurloz signs back, grinning and nodding. He seems just as excited as she is. You do not understand this, and you truly want to know the story behind that nickname.

That is absolutely nothing compared to Roxy’s reaction to Mituna, though.

They both stare at each other like they cannot believe their eyes. Then, they execute what can only be described as the world’s most perfectly executed fist-bump. You wish the Strider brothers were already here to have seen it. They would have wept from the beauty of it.

“Holy _fuck_ ,” Roxy breathes.

 _“Goddamn,”_ Mituna says.

Ze picks her up and swings her around, much to her almost childlike joy. She demands that ze do it again, and ze informs her that it’s not arm workout day, even if she is tiny. Then ze does it again, and declares hir good deed for the day complete.

“We fucking _match!_ ” Mituna shouts.

“We’re like twins who were tragically separated or some shit!”

“Except now, we’ve been reunited, because it was foretold by some wise old dead guy that we needed to be reunited,” Mituna says. “To bring balance to the Force. And to represent as hard as we could. Which is somehow gonna balance the Force.”

“Are you tellin’ me this was foretold by a _wizard?”_ Roxy asks.

Oh, no. Even you know about Roxy’s affinity for wizards. Rose snorts at her younger sister's reactions.

Mituna thinks for a few seconds. “You know what? Fuckin’ totally was a wizard. Fuckin’, I don’t know, like, Gandalf’s third cousin, who was also like, the guy who broke Dumbledore’s bong in tenth grade. That’s exactly who the fuck.”

“We gotta fulfill the prophecy, then,” Roxy says, dead serious. “We have the pride capes and the bling. _We are the chosen ones._ ”

“Chosen by that old fucker,” Mituna agrees. “Honorable bong wizard dude, may his soul rest in Valhalla.”

Roxy cocks her head to one side. _“Valhalla?”_

“Well, he can’t just go to fuckin’ heaven if he’s dead. He’s a goddamn wizard! He's gotta somewhere cool!” Mituna insists, gesturing furiously. “And that was the first cool-sounding place I thought of.”

“The souls of fallen warriors go to Valhalla, I think,” Roxy says.

“So it was a warrior bong wizard dude who made the fucking prophecy about us,” Mituna declares.

“That’s even better,” Roxy says. “By the way, what kind of flag are you wearing? I don’t know the colors.”

“The transgender flag. I’m bigender,” Mituna explains.

“That’s fucking awesome.”

“It’s the greatest shit ever. It’s like a superpower. Double the gender.”

At this point, you’re certain the pair of them will become besties. Wait until they start talking about video games. Wait until they start talking about ways to make Sollux’s life miserable. Dear God, wait until they start talking about Physics.

“Wait, hold up, gay trans twin who was foretold by a bong-breaking wizard warrior, I got like one more question,” Roxy says, more seriously.

“Go for it.”

“I thought Calliope lived here,” she says. “But I don’t see them anywhere. Did they leave?”

“Man unless they fuckin’ teleported the fuck, then like…” Mituna throws hir hands up and starts glancing around the apartment. Ze locks eyes with you. “Hey, Popo! Since when can Callie teleport?” Ze points to Roxy. “The lady needs her fuckin’ date!”

You walk over to Mituna and murmur something into hir ear.

Understanding dawns on hir face.

“Yeah, if I wasn’t the fuckin’ shit, I woulda done some shit like that when I started dating ‘Tula.”

“If I recall, you told me to ask her out for you when the time came, since you were too afraid.”

“Whatever man, it fuckin’ worked. This is not fuckin’ working,”

Roxy stares between the both of you, both confused and concerned.

“Sorry to interrupt, but where _is_ Calliope? Do either of you know?”

Mituna points to the bathroom.

“They’re in there ‘cause they’re probably nervous, so just, I dunno, man, go make them less nervous. You seem like you’d be good at that.”

Roxy obeys, walks over, and knocks on the bathroom door once.

No response.

She knocks again.

No response.

A third time. But this time, she speaks.

“Hey, Calliope, it’s me. It’s Roxy. You can come out now.”

“Roxy?” they ask, voice muffled.

“Yeah!” She knocks on the door a little harder. “I heard that you were maybe kinda nervous, but that’s cool ‘cause I’m also hella nervous! So if you come out, we can be like, nervous together. It’ll be like us before that Gov test, but probably better than that ‘cause I don’t think you can fail the Pride March.”

Calliope opens the door a sliver, looking crestfallen.

“I suppose I’ve messed this up a bit with my less than confident disposition, haven’t I?” they ask. “This isn’t how I wanted to first see you today.”

“Well you haven’t really done anything, so it’s hard to fuck up what didn’t happen yet.” Roxy takes off some of her necklaces. “And I brought you rainbow bling, just in case your roommates didn’t have any, but I think you’re covered. Tuna has enough for like, a whole float.”

They giggle, and let the bathroom door swing open fully.

“What the fuck,” Roxy says flatly, once she takes in Calliope’s appearance,. Calliope’s eyes go wide, and suspiciously liquid. Roxy is quick to backtrack.

“No, no, you didn’t do anything, it’s fine!” she says. “It’s just that you look hella spiffy in that suit with the flower pattern, and you never sent me the memo that I was supposed to look spiffy or nothin’.”

“I think you look perfectly spiffy, my dear,” Calliope says, gazing at her with absolute adoration.

Roxy raises an eyebrow.

“I’m wearin’ nine trillion rainbow necklaces and a t-shirt as a dress. Not completely sure what spiffy is, but I know what it’s probably not.”

“You also have that lovely cape,” Calliope points out. “And, if I heard what you and Mituna were yelling correctly, you’ve also been given a quest by a wizard. Surely that’s more important than subjective notions of spiffy things.”

Roxy nods, suddenly too resolute to be even vaguely serious.

“Yeah, my quest. To be as queer as possible and represent and balance the Force,” she says. “Hold on a second.”

She cups her hands over her mouth and shouts far louder than is necessary in your studio apartment. “Hey, Mituna!”

“You rang?” Mituna shouts back, before thankfully walking over to her and speaking at a less annoying volume.

“So like, what if the wizard’s prophecy was incomplete? And there was another person who was needed to bring balance to the Force?”

Mituna’s confused for a few seconds. Ze looks to her, and then to Callie, and they comprehend what's going on. Ze gives them both the thumbs up.

“Yeah, fersure. Callie’s gotta be part of the fuckin’ prophecy, ‘cause like, they have wizardy qualities and shit.”

“Wizardy qualities,” Callie repeats, incredulous.

“Yeah, like, uh, you have the magical ability to uh, remind Kurloz that he got a conscience and shit. And um, you’ve never actually pissed Pomary or Meenah or Damara off in your entire life, which should not be possible in this reality. You pretty much make people less angry by existing, like you’re casting a spell or a debuff that’s like _‘shut the fuck up you idiots’_ , except you never ever have to say that, or even raise your voice. Also, you magically know fuckin’ poetry and just recite that shit whenever the fuck. So like, you got, like, tiny fuckin’ magic. Which is the best kind ‘cause nobody even knows if you have wizardy shit, so they can’t try and steal that shit from you. And you can sway people’s minds, sorta. Mad respect.”

Calliope gives hir the widest smile.

Mituna high fives them, then beckons you over because, _“I know you heard what I was saying. Pomary!”_

“It would be hard not to,” you point out. 

Mituna will never, ever have an indoor voice.

“See, this is why Pomary isn’t a wizard, like you,” Ze says, full of mock derision for you. “She’s an elf.”

“I’m a _what?”_

(You could probably dig being an elf. They look very dignified in the movie. You’ve never seen any Black elves, so you’ll just have to be the first.)

“She heals people, and she says some important shit but it’s cryptic so fucking nobody understands it for half the damn book, and she does freaky magic nobody else can, like cook dinner out of absolutely nothing, and make a bag of rice last two and a half years, and vanquish pervs, and she also looks really pissed off even when she’s not.”

You scowl. You’re just proving hir point, unfortunately. “If I had a dollar for every time you referenced my resting bitch face–”

“Dude, some of us just have that disorder. At least you don’t look like a permanent dork or some legit affliction.” Ze shrugs. “Anyway, she’s mad nice to look at, ‘cause she’s got that otherworldly hotness factor. And she’s pretty chill, like if you’re on her good side, but if you’re on her bad side, you’ll either get punched in the face or end up with her staff jammed way the fuck up your–”

“Language, Tuna!”

Ze predictably ignores you.

Roxy and Calliope start cracking up.

“Also, she mostly heals but she can kick ass sometimes, like that time that chick tried to steal your lunch money in sixth fucking grade, holy fuck, that was one of the coolest fucking things you ever did.”

You take an exaggerated bow. Mituna’s still going.

“And then, at the total end of everything, she’s tired of everyone’s bullshit so she’s like, _‘fuck all you guys’_ , and absconds the fuck to the gray havens or wherever on a janky looking boat. But this is Pomary, so they’re like the fucking silky havens of beautiful women or some shit.”

“I like the idea of nice fabric, women, and rest,” you admit. “Mostly _rest.”_

“How do I get a ticket to the silky havens of beautiful women?” Roxy wants to know.

Mituna gives her hir patented “how the fuck should I know?” stare before ze actually thinks of an answer.

“So like, if you’re not a fuckin’ elf or otherwise anointed by whoever does the anointing for that shit, you gotta like carry a fucking cursed object from your house all the way to the place of all goddamn evil and then destroy that fucking shit with one of your homies, but end up all traumatized about it. So, uh, you have to take every Lit class there ever was and ever will be, and they’re always at 7:30 in the morning, your profs permanently hate you no matter what, and you still gotta get straight A’s.”

Roxy frowns.

“Guess I’m going to the regular afterlife.”

“I have no idea how I ended up in this story, really,” you say.

“You’re part of the magical circle of homos the bong wizard brought forth to bring balance to the Force in his prophecy thing. You need an elf in a story like this!” Mituna insists.

“Yeah, if there’s wizards, you gotta have elves,” Roxy says.

“There were no elves balancing the Force as far as I could tell,” you say. “All manner of odd space beings, but no elves.”

“Yeah, well, George Lucas shat his own story with the first two prequels, so anything goes,” Mituna counters. “Fuck it. I said there’s elves with the Force. Anyone against it? No? Good.”

“So what’re you then?” Roxy asks hir.

“I’m a mage,” Mituna says.

That actually sounds reasonable, which should tell you that ze isn’t quite finished.

“I’m a mage with a giant golden lightsaber.”

Here the fuck all of you go. You pour yourself another glass of wine.

“Which part’s gold?” Calliope asks. “The hilt or the light beam blade thing?”

“Yes,” Mituna answers.

“So what do you do with your Jedi mage powers, exactly?” you ask.

“I uh, play video games. And help people with shit. And uh, eat Fritos with Latula. Since I’m bigender I got like double powers for some stuff that I haven’t thought of yet. I am also trying to uh, use the Force for good and shit, defeat the evil whateverthefuck, and uh, tell Kurloz to stop being a tool when he’s being a tool, and tell you and Callie to calm the fuck down, when you need to calm the fuck down, which is like, fucking most of the time. Then I use the Force to play more video games, and troll Sollux across time and space, and defend good people from assholes. Oh yeah, and I skateboard everywhere because skateboarding and the Force are mad related. All those Jedi dudes? They had wicked moves on the half-pipe. Some of them were fuckin’ like as good as Latula, but not really. Problem was, they were too busy being idiots about Palpatine and politics so they ignored what the fuck was important. They forgot about practicing their sick stunts and they fell into fuckin’ ruin. Bong wizard guy knew what was up, though. He was so a Jedi. He cracked Dumbledore’s bong with the Force just to fuckin mess with him.”

Calliope has begun to write all of this down in the notebook she usually carries with her, completely serious. Meanwhile, you privately think that Kurloz may have been bested by Mituna in terms of storytelling. This is more ridiculous than any bedtime story he has ever had for Callie.

“So what am I in this, now?” Roxy asks. “What do I do with this prophecy wizard Jedi stuff?”

Mituna shrugs. “Whaddaya wanna be?”

“As long as I’m not a dwarf,” Roxy says.

“Well, then, you’re, uh, like…” Mituna pauses. “I’m not fuckin’ sure. I haven’t really hung out with you enough to say. Calliope, this is your girlfriend. What would she be?”

“Well, she’s very talented with computers,” Calliope says.

Mituna nods slowly. “Oh, right, fuck, man. I remember Sollux complaining about you like literally _every fucking day_. If we weren’t bound by this prophecy, I’d kind of hate you just ‘cause I had to hear about you constantly. Congrats on actually challenging him, though. Someone needed to put a foot up his ass.”

Roxy raises an eyebrow. “Does he really whine that much?”

“Sollux has not stopped whining since my mom brought him home from the hospital in 1993, except to sleep, and sometimes he whines in his sleep,” Mituna replies, expression completely deadpan. “Moving on and shit, you’re like some fucking hacker science wizard. Like, one of those fucking hackers who like steals government weaknesses from, I don’t fuckin know, the mainframes of the shady totalitarian regime that’s trying to fuck up the Force and oppress everyone for no reason other than the fact that they’re jackasses. They’re jank ass motherfuckers. In terms of evil, they’re like, the most evil you can get, like fucking Sith Lord Lawful Evil Death Eater bigot riot cops who worship Sauron and… _I don’t fuckin’ know_. Someone come up with someone more evil than Sauron. And not Satan, ‘cause Kurloz says he’s an okay dude once you get to know him.”

Of course he did.

“Ezra Pound?” Calliope offers.

You snort. Loudly.

Mituna throws hir hands up. “The fuck is he? This better be good.”

“He was a rather awful poet,” Calliope says. At Mituna’s raised eyebrows, they add, a little more defensively, “and an unrepentant fascist. Objectively terrible, to be quite honest.”

Mituna has no argument.

“Alright, so we’re up against jank ass Sith Lord Lawful Evil Death Eater bigot riot cops who worship Sauron and Ezra Pound. As you can probably fuckin’ tell, they are trying to fuck our shit up because they are totally bad guys, and not even some antihero bad guys that you can fuckin bribe into being on your side and then sorta redeem. So we need to fuck their shit up, restore balance to the Force, represent and be homo because that also hurts the jank fuckers, so we really gotta go hard or go home with this, probably go on stupid fetch quests, fulfill the fuck outta this prophecy so we don’t have to go back and do this shit over again, liberate the galaxy from tyranny, uh, and some other fuckshit that I already forgot, ‘cause we’re already doing a lot of fucking shit.”

You burst out laughing then and there, because the last few minutes of this story has probably been the greatest thing you’ve heard in your whole life. Mituna pauses in hir telling so you can stop cackling and try to compose yourself, and when you stop laughing only to start again, repeatedly, ze looks at you like you’ve gone and truly lost it. You can’t stop. You truly cannot.

“Welp, congrats everyone, we finally broke Pomary. RIP in fuckin peace.”

You keep laughing all the while. Eventually, the story resumes.

“Anyway, Roxy, you can hack into anything, even things that should not be able to be accessed from the outside or hacked by design, because you know the shit out of all the fucking grids or whatever. We have poets and elves and jedi mages and shit, so this isn’t even the weirdest fucking thing here. Also you have a weapon.”

“Is it something more dangerous than a staff?” she asks.  

“A staff is dangerous if a magic user has it,” you say fairly.

“What kind of goddamn weapons do you want?” Mituna asks. “We have nothing better to do until everyone else gets here, so fuckin’ whatever, man, just think of something. I’m tired, but I think I can keep this going another few minutes.”

“You ever play Unreal Tournament?” Roxy asks hir.

Mituna looks at her like Christmas has come early. You groan.

“Ze plays that fucking game about as often as devout people go to church,” you inform her.

Roxy pumps a victorious fist into the air. “Great! Then I want a Pulse Gun, I guess.”

“Which one’s the Pulse Gun, again?” Calliope asks.

“The one that shoots either green balls or green lightning,” you reply, without having to think about it.

Mituna does nothing but stare at you for a good fifteen seconds. Then, ze hugs you like you saved Kurloz from the brink of death or something equally important.

“I’ve never been so proud of you in my life, Pomary. Ever. Not even when you were like valedictorian.”

For the twenty-third time this morning, you roll your eyes.

“At this point, I’d be more surprised if I didn’t know these stupid weapons.”

“The Pulse Gun’s not a stupid weapon! It’s actually pretty fuckin’ good! Not as good as the sniper rifle, but like…”

“It’ll do,” Roxy says.

“Anyway, what now?” Mituna wants to know.

Calliope claps, as they are wont to do when they are excited. or pleased. “How does dear Kurloz figure into this story?”

“He shows up twenty chapters late with five grams of weed, McDonalds, a rocket launcher, a lightsaber, four hundred and twenty pipe bombs, and a few questionable people he bribed into fighting for us with promises of murder and dank ass nugs,” ze decides. “And we know he can fight like a motherfucker so we spend half the fuckin’ story calling him up on our magic Jedi cell phone shits and he doesn’t fuckin’ answer because he’s on a quest haggling for cheaper Sour D. He just shows up when we’re all about to die, and like starts fucking shit up like ‘ _sup guys I’m fuckin baked, time to kill everyone’_. He and Pomary beat the shit out of those evil shits together,” Mituna says. Ze takes a moment to breathe. “Wait, exactly what the fuck are we fighting again? That name's fucking long as hell.”

You’re sitting next to Calliope, so you can see over their shoulder and read the writing in their notebook, even if their cursive is rather small.

“We are fighting against, I believe it was, ‘jank ass Sith Lord Lawful Evil Death Eater bigot riot cops who worship Sauron and Ezra Pound.’ Is that correct?”

Callie nods. Mituna shrugs and says it sounds good enough. Something prods you gently in the back. You look behind you and realize it's Kurloz’s foot. He’s signing something.

“They should be DEA agents too,."

Mituna flat out refuses this one.

“We’re already fighting a long enough fuckin’ organization, goddamnit. Just assume that the bigot riot cops with shitty poetry are also trying to take your fuckin’ weed, man.”

Kurloz frowns, but nods.

“Whatever you say, Tunasis. Can I have a nuke?”

“I think a nuclear bomb might be excessive,” Calliope says.

Mituna agrees. So does Roxy. Nobody asks you, because they already know what’s going to come out of your mouth.

Kurloz signs something about not being allowed to have any fun.

Sometimes you wish you had more eyes to roll. Constantly, in fact, when you are in Kurloz’s company,

“Your ideas of fun have this disturbing trend of involving war crimes.”

“Slaughter and laughter are only one letter away,” Kurloz signs, giving you his creepiest possible grin. You have become impervious to it over the years.

“Either way, fuck you fuckers, I’m taking a break,” Mituna says.

You stretch, and look at the clock. It’s still godawful early, but it’s getting a bit later. More of your friends should be arriving soon. You gaze around, searching for Kanaya and Rose, wondering what they’ve been doing during this little exercise. You feel bad for having lost track of them that way. Normally you’re more of a mindful hostess.

“It would be a shame if the story ended there,” Rose says, with a giggle.

She and Kanaya have been standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the main room, watching all of you for who knows how long, and drinking coffee.

Mituna tells her to fuck off, but not in a confrontational way, just in the way ze tells everyone and everything to fuck off at certain points. Ze probably needs some coffee.

“I am done busting my ass over this fuckin’ story for one session,” ze insists. “If you want more of it, you’re gonna have to wait for the next time I decide I wanna spend a whole lotta fuckin time bullshitting and doing nothing. And Pomary, before you even say that’s prolly not gonna take that long, it’s also gotta be when I’m not playing video games.”

“Before the turn of the next millennium, surely, then,” you respond.

Mituna shoves you. You shove hir right back. This goes back and forth for a while.

When the two of you decide to stop acting like children, and actually sit down on the couch, Roxy unceremoniously sprawls herself out across your laps like a cat. Neither Rose, Kanaya, nor Calliope react to this with much shock, so this must be a thing that she does regularly.

She should definitely spend more time with Mituna. They will get along perfectly.

“What? It looked comfortable here,” she says.

Having been reminded of it by her sister’s actions, Rose begins telling a story about an infamous cuddle pile that resulted after their AP Lit exam, which was less than a month ago. Kanaya seems faintly embarrassed about the whole thing.

You don’t know why she would be. Their graduating class has yours beat. The greatest number of people you ever achieved in one cuddle pile was six. They got all the way to eleven.

“It was like an orgy of snoring seniors,” Kanaya recalls, taking over the telling. “In the sense that it was nothing like an orgy, and more like a pile of kittens. Somewhat annoying kittens who wouldn’t stop elbowing me. Also, kittens are soft. Dirk Strider is by far the pointiest, most angular person I have ever met, which is saying a great deal, considering that I’ve known Sollux since… I don’t even know, it’s been so many years.”

“The nineties, but like, the last one. 1999.” Mituna supplies. “I met Pomary then, so that’s probably when you met Sollux.”

You smile to realize ze remembers the year you met. The old memory from yesterday afternoon pops up.

Two kids on the swings in Prospect Park, one in an perfectly pressed girls’ Catholic school uniform, and the other wearing clothes that were patched, frayed, and sized improperly. How one altered the other’s clothes with a careful needle and thread, and the other taught their friend a new meaning of the word family. It’s a smile that you feel with your whole body, reminiscent of sunshine.

Then, you think of how much you’ve missed your sister, as you watch her gesticulate and make faces while she speaks, as you watch her and Rose lean into each other. Certainly, this is the kind of woman and the kind of love Kanaya deserves, a kind so complete. You listen to the end of Kanaya’s first story, and then to the start of her next one.

Kanaya gazes at you the same way you gaze at her, as if she is glad to see you happy and smiling.

She and Mituna are right. You haven’t quite learned how to let your loved ones protect you, but you’ve learned how to let them give what they can to you.

Sometimes it feels like the very energy keeping you going.

Other times, it’s a silly story created from a little wine and a lot of bullshit.

Sometimes it’s somewhere in between.

You laugh like you used to laugh when you and Kanaya were very young, and laughing was the thing you two aspired to make the other do more than anything else. You laugh, and you feel light.


End file.
